


Father Christmas

by 64K



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Christmas, Family Drama, Fluff and Crack, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-20
Updated: 2017-12-20
Packaged: 2019-02-17 15:00:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13079379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/64K/pseuds/64K
Summary: Never mind that Christmas is a foolish human custom, celebrated by creatures no better than ants. There's no way on Earth that Father is going to let Hohenheim outshine him in the parenting department, even if that means going to the Hohenheim-Elric Christmas party and socializing.





	Father Christmas

**Author's Note:**

> This was written as part of a Christmas event that I do with some of my fanfic dot net friends, so it was first posted over there. Mostly crack, not meant to be taken seriously. Thank you for reading!

 

“How have you been doing, Homunculus?” Hohenheim’s kindly voice was distorted through the phone, and the combination of kindliness and distortion irritated Father irrationally.

He held the phone away from his ear with a frown. “I am doing most excellently well, my dear Theophrastus Bombastus,” he said loudly, brushing a blond hair behind his ear. “I and all of my children are doing most splendidly.”

“That’s wonderful,” said Hohenheim. “Splendid.”

“Yes,” said Father. There was a long silence. Father expected that Hohenheim anticipated a similar question from him, but Father really cared nothing about  _ Hohenheim’s _ children. Even if they were related to Father, they were nowhere near as beautiful, as powerful, as well-behaved as Father’s—

“Greed, would you  _ stop? _ ”

Envy was shrieking again.

That brat. Envy was definitely one of Father’s most trouble-making children. Along with Greed, and occasionally Gluttony. The three of them were always so loud and rambunctious. Well, at least Father’s remaining four children were more well behaved than Hohenheim’s two.

“Is there a particular reason why you’re calling?” asked Father, turning away from the noise of Envy’s shrieking and Greed’s raucous laughter that echoed down the hall.

“Well, yes, actually.” The sounds of young voices arguing through the phone made Hohenheim’s voice difficult to hear. “I was wondering if you would like to come over for Christmas. It would be nice to chat, and Trisha’s been wanting to meet you. We normally have our neighbors over for the holidays, but the Rockbells have business down in Rush Valley and will be away. I don’t want the boys to be lonely, so I thought it would be nice for them to meet your children.”

Father most certainly would  _ not _ go to spend Christmas with Hohenheim. Why should he do such a thing? He and his children were perfectly happy here, in their lair below Central. There was no reason for them to leave their comfortable dwelling place to—

Hohenheim was still talking. “... and I certainly hope that the boys will enjoy it. I spent hours building it—although they won’t be able to play in it until springtime, since the tree’s covered in snow at the moment. What have you gotten for your children?”

Gotten… for the children?

Whatever did he mean? Was he supposed to…  _ give  _ them something at Christmastime?

“That’s a secret,” he said snootily.

“Oh, yes, of course,” amended Hohenheim. “Well, surely your Christmas dinner isn’t a secret. What were you planning on having? Whatever it is, I’m sure that Trisha will be more than happy to add it to our dinner if you plan to come. She’s making turkey, and mashed potatoes—well, I’m going to peel the potatoes— and plum pudding, and…”

Was… was a  _ Christmas dinner _ customary?

“Ours will be far more magnificent than yours,” Father said austerely, though with less surety than before. He hadn’t given any thought to a dinner… usually he let his children scrounge around for whatever they felt they needed. Homunculi didn’t have the same need to eat as humans, with the exception of Gluttony, who needed far more food than the average human, so Father wasn’t very concerned with their eating habits, since their Philosopher’s Stones could usually sustain them if they were in desperate need of food.

But even so…  it certainly seemed that Hohenheim and his family were putting in a lot of work towards this “Christmas” celebration. Far more work, it seemed, than Father had even imagined doing.

Was this… was this an area that a family of  _ humans _ could outshine his own perfect family?

Impossible. He wouldn’t have it.

“On the other hand,” Father began slowly, “perhaps it would be nice to meet your family. It would be very pleasant indeed—yes! I believe that that would be just the thing.”

He would observe Hohenheim’s Christmas customs up close, and then outsmart him at his own game, proving himself to be the better parent of the two by giving his children a far better Christmas than Hohenheim could give his sons.

“Prepare your home, number twenty-three,” he proclaimed, “for my children and I shall bestow a holiday visit upon your abode.”

“Oh, that’s wonderful,” Hohenheim said mildly. “Well, please come tonight then. Bring all of your presents, and we’ll open them around the Christmas tree. I look forward to seeing you.”

Father hung up without saying goodbye, since finding the right words to say goodbye with was always a bother.

Presents?

Father didn’t know anything about presents.

“Lust!” he bellowed, placing the phone beside him. “Lust, come here!”

His only daughter was one of his children who spent quite a lot of time in the world above, and surely she had some idea of what “presents” entailed.

Lust strode over from down the hall. “Yes, Father?”

Father gestured vaguely towards the ceiling. “I command you, as your father, to venture to the world above and purchase ‘presents’ for your siblings and for Hohenheim’s brood, for we are going to pay them a visit tonight for a Christmas celebration.”

Lust nodded in agreement. “Yes, Father.”

“Make sure that they are wonderful presents that are better than anything a  _ human _ would think of,” continued Father. Whatever it was that Hohenheim had laboured over would surely pale in comparison to whatever Lust picked out.

“Of course Father. I know just the thing,” said Lust, striding away. “I’ll be back in an hour.”

“Good,” said Father. “Children!” he called. “Pack your things. As soon as Lust returns, we are driving to Hohenheim’s home.”

“Do we have to?” mumbled Envy, stepping into Father’s chamber. “It’s snowing out, and I hate driving during snowstorms. We’ll crash, and get hurt, and I hate getting—”

“Don’t be such a worrywart, Envy,” said Greed, creeping up behind his unsuspecting sibling. “It’s fun driving out in a snowstorm. Living life on the edge, taking risks. The thrill, the glory!”

“Easy for you to say,” scowled Envy, sidestepping a “good-natured” punch from Greed. “You’re not the one who’s going to have to drive. Who’s going to get blamed if we crash? Me, that’s who.”

“Cease this sibling quarrel,” said Father, “and get into the car.”

After an hour of dashing around the lair, grabbing things that they didn’t need and finding everybody, the entire homunculus family had made their way into Envy’s car. The vehicle wasn’t meant for more than four or five people, and not only was the car now holding Father and his seven children, but multiple packages, presents and suitcases. The homunculi, several of whom were already large, muscular people, were all dressed in large, bulky coats and snow pants, making the small vehicle even more crammed. Father, sitting in the passenger’s seat in the front of the car, was eager to leave. “Envy, my child. Please begin driving.”

“Yeah, okay,” mumbled Envy, fidgeting with the keys. “Everyone buckled?”

A scattered chorus of agreeing noises came from the backseat.

“You all got everything?” asked Envy.

The agreeing noises came once more, less cheerfully than before.

“Did everybody go to the—”

“Get driving, Envy!” 

Envy snarled, turning the key savagely. “Alright, alright! I just hate driving in the winter…”

As it turned out, Father hated being driven in the winter. Somehow, the route to Resembool, the town that Hohenheim’s family lived, lay along an improbably dangerous series of mountains, valleys, and roads filled with vagabonds and criminals. Of course, none of that posed much of a danger to the homunculi, but Envy was desperate to keep their prized car safe from harm, and drove to protect the vehicle, not necessarily the people inside of it. Everybody, including Father, was horribly carsick from Envy’s swerving, scarred by several close calls along the edges of mountain cliffs, and overall exhausted by the time they reached Hohenheim’s home.

“Why, what a pathetic little shack,” said Father in shock.

“Kinda cute,” said Greed, peering through the fogged-over window. “I want it.”

“Let’s just get inside, shall we?” said Lust, opening the car door. “Sloth, would you mind carrying these packages?” she said, piling presents into her brother’s arms before he had the chance to respond.

“What a pain,” grumbled Sloth, nonetheless trudging towards the house.

Suddenly, the door burst open. Hohenheim stood there, wearing a red hat with white trim, waving vigorously. “Welcome!” he called, smiling broadly. “Come in, come in, and let’s all get introduced!”

Once inside, Father surveyed the house with a critical eye. A thousand offensive words came to mind at the shabby interior, but he managed to pull one fairly complimentary word from his vocabulary. “Your home is very rustic,” he stated emphatically. 

“Why, thank you,” said Hohenheim. “I’m rather proud of this little place.”

“Yes…” Father said. “It’s very you.”

The homunculi had finished taking off their winter clothes and had hung them all on the hooks by the door. “Let me introduce my children to you,” said Father, watching a woman and two golden-haired boys approach from another room. He clapped his hands. “Line up, children, the way we rehearsed.”

With much grumbling and bumping into each other, the homunculi lined up in front of the door, from oldest to youngest.

“In order of age, this is Pride, Lust, Greed, Envy, Sloth, Gluttony, and Wrath,” said Father.

Hohenheim peered at the children. “In order of age?” he asked curiously. “But your boy Pride looks so young, and Wrath looks like an adult. Are you sure—”

“Of course I’m sure,” sniffed Father. “We are different from and superior to humans, so of course you and your family would not be able to understand the beauty of our appearances.” He could feel Pride glowering behind him, and could almost hear Wrath hiding a chuckle behind his mustache.

“Oh, well, they’re all very nice,” said Hohenheim. “I just didn’t expect them all to look so old. You’re younger than me, after all, so I thought that your children would be younger than mine. In any case,” he said, beckoning to the boys behind him, “these are my sons, Edward and Alphonse, and this is my lovely wife Trisha.”

Trisha seemed quite nice, at least—a very nice, very boring wife for a very nice, very boring man. But those boys looked like trouble, or at least the short one did, as he scowled towards Father’s darling children. Father certainly hoped that Hohenheim’s children would not be a negative influence on his own. “Your boys look very disagreeable,” he said.

“Oh, well, they aren’t angels, but they’re as close as they can be,” said Hohenheim, smiling. “Edward, Alphonse, show your cousins around the house, please.”

“They’re our cousins?” asked Edward, gaping. “They don’t look anything like us.”

“Don’t be rude, Edward,” said Hohenheim hastily. “You’re old enough to know better.”

“Come on,” said Alphonse, rolling his eyes. “Let’s hang out in the basement. There’s some neat books down there, anyway.”

The homunculi grudgingly trudged down the stairs. “Why did we come here again?” Father heard Envy moan as the crowd disappeared down into the basement.

* * *

 

Peeling potatoes wasn’t exactly Father’s idea of a Christmas celebration. But, it seemed to be a part of Hohenheim’s tradition, and so Father meticulously scraped the metal blade over the potato, getting every last bit of peel off of it. He was doing a better job than Hohenheim; his doppelganger had left two specks of peel—two!—on his most recently peeled potato.

“Thanks for helping, boys,” said Trisha, peeking into the oven at the roasting turkey. “You’re such a big help.”

“It’s no trouble at all,” said Hohenheim, eyeing a potato carefully. 

“It’s certainly something that I have  _ never _ done before in my life,” said Father. “But it isn’t a terrible pastime.”  Perhaps he would cook potatoes for his children sometime after they returned home…

“We’ll open presents directly after dinner,” said Hohenheim. “Not all of them, of course, since we usually open presents Christmas morning. But some of them, at least, so your children can be included in the fun.” He paused peeling the potato, listening carefully. “It sounds like they’re having fun down there.”

The familiar sounds of Envy shrieking, Greed laughing, Pride and Lust hissing for them to stop fighting and Gluttony shouting the same reached Father’s ears, and he hoped that Hohenheim would mistake the sounds for merriment. It would be shameful to have Hohenheim’s children behave better than his own.

“Can’t we open them now?”

The question had come from Edward. The boy stood sullenly at the top of the stairs, eyes questioning. “It’s going to be ages until supper, and we’ve already showed those guys all the tricks we know how to do out of the alchemy books.”

“Except how to make a homunculus,” said Alphonse, coming up behind Edward. “But Dad told us that was theoretical and would only make a mess.”

“Honestly, that would be a good idea,” said a frazzled-looking Lust, peering around the doorframe. “Everybody’s getting a little bit restless.”

“But we can’t do that,” said Hohenheim. “We always wait until after dinner.”

Aha! This was the way for Father to prove himself the better parent—by giving in to the children’s demands! “They may open the presents from  _ me _ ,” he said ponderously. 

Before Hohenheim or Trisha could say anything, Ed, Al and Lust all dashed down the stairs, yelling for the rest of the homunculi to come up and open the presents. All nine of the ‘kids’ tramped up the stairs, throwing themselves down around the Christmas tree.

“Are presents good to eat?” asked Gluttony.

Envy elbowed Gluttony. “Naw… presents are something that _ humans _ give to each other and something that they receive no personal gain from and it’s a completely stupid concept!”

“I agree with you,” said Greed, shock gradually spreading across his face.

“Well, they aren’t stupid, because Father has given them to you,” said Lust, handing out some neatly wrapped parcels. “I picked them out myself.”

Despite Envy and Greed’s apparent distaste for presents and Hohenheim’s original protests, everyone started tearing into the packages as soon as they were opened. Father sat there smugly, watching them. They all loved him—after all, he had caved to their demands!

Hohenheim looked up from his package with tears in his eyes. “My dear Homunculus. How did you know exactly what I wanted?” He held up a garishly coloured Christmas sweater, covered with images of reindeer, snowmen, and every Christmas cliche imaginable. “This is one of the best presents I have ever received.” Father found himself choked by a bear hug as Hohenheim continued to shower thanks upon him.

Generally speaking, the rest of the present-openers were not as pleased as Hohenheim. Ed stared at his sweater with distaste. “I’m not going to wear this.”

“Edward, shush,” said Trisha, staring at her sweater with the same kind of distaste.

The atmosphere in the room was chaos. Gluttony cheered and put his sweater on, Wrath looked as pleased as Hohenheim, and Sloth snored apathetically. Lust shouted for everybody to be grateful, Pride stared in bewilderment at the atrocity in his hands, and Alphonse discreetly tucked the sweater underneath a couch cushion. Greed stared bemusedly at the sweater, and Envy started crying because “Father never got me a present before.”

Trisha stood up. “I think that supper’s ready,” she said.

The rest of the evening passed fairly uneventfully. Hohenheim tried to make small talk with Father at the dinner table without much success, and the cousins sat awkwardly, unsure of what to say. Finally, the dinner (which was admittedly delicious) was over, and Father shooed his children over to the door, telling them to put their winter clothes on so they could drive home. Hohenheim stood smiling by the kitchen door, proudly wearing his sweater and his red hat. “That was an incredibly fun visit, Homunculus,” he said. “I certainly hope that we can make this a yearly tradition.”

“Perhaps,” said Father evasively. He had mixed feelings about this. The visit hadn’t been… painful, by any means. It hadn’t been enjoyable, but it had been sort of nice to have an excuse to leave his lair. It seemed that he needed to observe more Christmas traditions in order to make his Christmas the perfect one, so that would be a reason to return… “Perhaps,” he said again. “We can talk about it later.”

“Oh yes,” said Hohenheim. “The boys and Trisha would be delighted to have you and your wonderful children return—isn’t that right, everyone?”

“Oh yes, yes,” said Trisha, nodding with a pained smile on her face. Ed and Al didn’t say anything, only staring sullenly at the floor.

“I’d like to come back,” said Gluttony. “The food was yummy.” The rest of the homunculi stayed silent.

“Well, farewell,” said Father, breaking the silence.

The homunculi tramped out of the house and piled into the car, this time burdened with less packages than before. 

“Well, that was a trip,” said Envy, sniffing pathetically and clutching the sweater to their chest. They turned the key and started the car. “Sure do hope that we’re not coming here again. Those kids have no idea how to have fun, showing us those stupid parlour tricks in the basement.”

Father frowned, his mind suddenly made up. “Unfortunately for you, Envy, and for the rest of you who had a bad time, we will be returning next year. This is our new—” he paused, thinking of the right term, “—our new Christmas Tradition.”

A mix of shouts of joy and groans of misery came from the backseat. “Yes,” said Father thoughtfully, his thoughts uncharacteristically filled with Christmas cheer. “Our Christmas Tradition. Now hurry, Envy,” he said, growing excited, “and drive to the forest. We must pick out the perfect Christmas tree and put it up before Christmas morning. And then we must drive to the business district of Central, to purchase more presents. And then we must…”

Next year, his Christmas would be the best ever. Better than Hohenheim’s, better than Santa Claus’s himself. Nevermind that his children were groaning and protesting now; next year, they would see the truth, that their own father was truly…

Father Christmas.

 

_ The End _

 

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first remotely funny story that I've written in a year and a half. My apologies for how rushed it is; I wrote it in a hurry because the Christmas season crept up on me quite quickly. I'm just happy that my cracky muse returned in time for me to write this. 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading!


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